Volume Iii Part 117 (2/2)

_Char_. Most possible, Sir; they will court you, their whole delight is to immortalize--_Alexander_ was begot by a Salamander, that visited his Mother in the form of a Serpent, because he would not make King _Philip_ jealous; and that famous Philosopher _Merlin_ was begotten on a Vestal Nun, a certain King's Daughter, by a most beautiful young Salamander; as indeed all the Heroes, and Men of mighty Minds are.

_Doct_. Most excellent!

_Char_. The Nymph _Egeria_, inamour'd on _Numa Pompilius_, came to him invisible to all Eyes else, and gave him all his Wisdom and Philosophy.

_Zoroaster, Trismegistus, Apuleius, Aquinius, Albertus Magnus, Socrates_ and _Virgil_ had their Zilphid, which the Foolish call'd their Daemon or Devil. But you are wise, Sir.

_Doct_. But do you imagine, Sir, they will fall in love with an old Mortal?

_Char_. They love not like the Vulgar, 'tis the immortal Part they doat upon.

_Doct_. But, Sir, I have a Niece and Daughter which I love equally, were it not possible they might be immortaliz'd?

_Char_. No doubt on't, Sir, if they be pure and chaste.

_Doct_. I think they are, and I'll take care to keep 'em so; for I confess, Sir, I would fain have a Hero to my Grandson.

_Char_. You never saw the Emperor of the Moon, Sir, the mighty _Iredonozar_?

_Doct_. Never, Sir; his Court I have, but 'twas confusedly too.

_Char_. Refine your Thoughts, Sir, by a Moment's Prayer, and try again.

[_He prays_. Char. _claps the Gla.s.s with the Emperor on it, he looks in and sees it_.

_Doct_. It is too much, too much for mortal Eyes! I see a Monarch seated on a Throne--but seems most sad and pensive.

_Char_. Forbear then, Sir; for now his Love-Fit's on, and then he wou'd be private.

_Doct_. His Love-Fit, Sir!

_Char_. Ay, Sir, the Emperor's in love with some fair Mortal.

_Doct_. And can he not command her?

_Char_. Yes, but her Quality being too mean, he struggles, though a King, 'twixt Love and Honour.

_Doct_. It were too much to know the Mortal, Sir?

_Char_. 'Tis yet unknown, Sir, to the Caballists, who now are using all their Arts to find her, and serve his Majesty; but now my great Affair deprives me of you: To morrow, Sir, I'll wait on you again; and now I've try'd your Virtue, tell you Wonders.

_Doct_. I humbly kiss your Hands, most learned Sir.

[Charmante _goes out_. Doctor _waits on him to the Door, and returns: to him_ Scaramouch. _All this while_ Harlequin _was hid in the Hedges, peeping now and then, and when his Master went out he was left behind_.

_Scar_. So, so, Don _Charmante_ has played his Part most exquisitely; I'll in and see how it works in his Pericranium.

--Did you call, Sir?

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